


Captain America: Spy Games

by Thorfanficwriter



Category: Captain America (Movies), James Bond (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Belly Dancing, Chases, Cold War, Espionage, Explosions, F/M, Heist, Hydra (Marvel), Inspired by James Bond, Istanbul, KGB, Light Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Sex, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Soviet Union, Spies & Secret Agents, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorfanficwriter/pseuds/Thorfanficwriter
Summary: AU where Steve Rogers was never lost in the ice. It's 1962 and he's working with SHIELD during the Cold War. Cap takes on a mission to steal a Soviet code book and help an expatriate get out of Turkey and back to the States. Little do either of them know the whole scheme is a HYDRA plot that includes their elimination via The Winter Soldier.





	1. The Assets

**Author's Note:**

> James Bond fans will recognize this as a reimagining of Ian Fleming's "From Russia With Love" (movie). The storyline formed the construct of this but I've provided more than enough changes to make it interesting to Marvel and 007 alike, hopefully.

_HYDRA Facility,_ _Siberia_ _\- 1962_  

Helmut Brauer was a small, dark, German man of middle-age. Unlike many peers, he did not draw attention to himself with designer suits or other extravagances. People on the street mostly passed him by without so much as a glance. Just as it should be for an expert in covert operations, in his opinion. Even to a trained eye, one might assume he was an accountant or lower-management business man. No one would ever suspect him of being one of HYDRA’s top planning directors. 

Guided down through the dark depths of the Russian bunker, he was flanked by numerous lackeys hoping to get in good favor. The facility’s Director, handed him a file folder.  

Perusing the first page, Helmut read aloud, “The Winter Soldier. American, first captured in Azzano during WWII. Experiment of Arnim Zola. Cybernetic as well as chemical enhancements. Successfully withstands repeated memory and personality wipes. Mastery in martial arts, hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, multiple languages. Excellent. Where is he now?” 

A door was opened for him. They entered a gymnasium in which a very large man with a metal left arm was fighting off at least half a dozen other big men with his bare hands. The attacks rained down upon him with little to no effect. His reflexes were extraordinary, repeatedly tossing his opponents into one another or across the room. The very definition of Super Soldier. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. 

“Call him,” Brauer instructed. 

“Soldat!” 

Everyone immediately stopped and the trainee walked over to the group of suited men. He wore only training pants, otherwise barefooted and naked from the waist up. The German circled the 6-foot-two, two-hundred-plus-pound dark-haired man with icy blue eyes, surveying the impressive physique. The Asset remained still and at attention. Brauer nodded to one of the training partners who came up and gave the assassin a strong, hard jab to the gut. He didn’t even flinch. 

“Very impressive. What experience does he have?” 

“Dozens of small missions. Four top-level, top-secret kills. Only the heads of HYDRA have the details. An added benefit to the memory wiping, each time he is brought out, he, himself, does not remember the past missions. There is no doubt he is up to the task.” 

“He’d better be,” Brauer said, slamming the folder shut and handing it over. “That code book is essential to escalating the Cold War. The future of HYDRA depends on it.” 

“How?” 

“A copy has been spotted at the Russian Consulate in Turkey. One of our operatives will send word to SHIELD claiming she needs help getting away from the Soviets and can lead them to the code book. The catch is there is only one agent she will trust. Our man must follow them undetected until they have the book. He will then retrieve it and eliminate both the agent and the girl. We will make sure the Soviet government believes it was the Americans who have orchestrated everything.” 

“He can do this.” 

“Good. Have him prepped and report to Istanbul in 24 hours. It’s time we rid ourselves of Captain America once and for all.” 

* * *

 _Istanbul, Turkey_  

Looking in the right direction, there was a glimpse of the Bosporus outside the window. Ayleen Adams wished she could enjoy it, or the lovely sunset, as she looked out of the one room apartment. She wished she could enjoy anything anymore. HYDRA had made that all but impossible.  

Six months ago, it had been her misfortune to catch the eye of the Soviet, Alexi Popov. He happened to catch the Turkish-American's performance at the club one night. Normally, the overly protective manager would never let a male patron visit one of the girls backstage. Everyone has a price, though. 

Her suitor was at least ten years older than the expatriate college drop-out, but oh, so handsome and charismatic. The tall, slim blond was elegance personified. A man of the world. He had been kind and generous, setting her up in a new rent-free home, showering her with gifts. There had been lavish parties to attend with important people who lived in enormous wealth. Each time, she would be presented with a new gown, sent to the hairdressers and anything else required to have her looking her best. Ayleen was meant to impress and she did. 

She had wanted to believe he loved her. It wasn’t long before she began running seemingly innocent errands for him. Only later, when he had tired of her, did he reveal he was a HYDRA operative and she had been unwittingly assisting him in illegal espionage.  

Although, Popov no longer had any romantic interest in her, if he ever truly did, she was stuck in HYDRA’s clutches. He explained she was constantly under watch and if she tried to alert anyone of her situation, they would hand over a stockpile of evidence implicating her as, not only a spy, but a double-agent for both Turkey and the Soviet Union. A death sentence for sure. She had no way to prove her innocence. 

For weeks she heard nothing, constantly looking over her shoulder wondering who lurked in the shadows. She frantically turned her apartment upside-down for bugs even though she had no idea what one looked like. When he eventually turned up without warning, she was still somewhat shocked. They had found a use for her.  

The scent of cologne that she once found so alluring, turned her stomach. His cold, hard eyes showed only the faintest amusement at her predicament. Fear was surely apparent on her face, as were the sting of tears behind her eyes, but damn it all if she would crumble in front of this snake. 

Popov handed her a photograph. “You know who this is?” he asked in thickly accented English. 

“I was born and raised in America. Of course, I know who he is.” 

“Such an important responsibility for your first official assignment. He is big, strong, handsome man. No? You should be thankful for such a pleasant one.” 

“I am grateful for all that you have given me, Alexi.” He wanted to hear the lie; to know he still had control over her. “What if I fail? What if he has no interest?” 

“Ayleen, you are a beautiful, sensual woman. You will seduce him or you will die.” 

 _I will die either way_ , she thought. In the meantime, she would have to play their game until she could devise some way out. 

“Now, you are due at the club. We shall drive you.” 

“I prefer to walk.” 

“It was not a request, my sweet.”  


	2. The Mission

“It’s a trap.” 

“Obviously. But we need that code book and the letter says you are the only one she trusts.” Steve’s face had always been easy for her to read. She watched it go from contention to reluctant resignation. 

Word had come that she requested a meeting. He wondered why. What could cause the need to fly 3,450 miles over the Atlantic to meet at SHIELD in person? A flurry of emotions ran riot through him then. Simply hearing her name caused a small stutter in his heart. He had to wonder if any of the old feelings were left. They had exchanged only a handful of platonic letters after the wedding and the annual Christmas cards with brief, perfunctory messages. They hadn’t spoken over the phone in ages. 

When Peggy greeted him, it was with a stilted smile, remaining behind the desk. It was nice to hear the polished British accent again, but clearly the meeting was to be all business. Perhaps the protocol helped her maintain a necessary emotional distance even though their affair had ended years ago. She had moved on and couldn’t afford to let either of them forget it. 

World War II’s hostilities officially ceased and he had stayed by her side helping reform the SSR into SHIELD. Professionally, she taught him the art of stealth and espionage, learning it wasn’t always necessary to run around like a bull in a china shop. Personally, she taught him how to dance and be a good lover. Oh, how they had loved each other. The first few weeks after the war were like a honeymoon. Returning to New York, they had thought about cohabitating, but for appearances and Peggy’s fierce need for independence at the time, decided against it. There was talk of marriage, but the time wasn’t right. 

This proved prudent as their needs to serve began calling once more. While they were technically together for years, the work didn’t allow them to see each other often enough. This necessitated their brief encounters become hot, heavy and hasty in the interest of time. The relationship stalled. It turned into something neither of them wanted. She called it quits, returning to London and accepting the position with MI6 as Head of Intelligence. Peggy eventually fell in love with a civil servant, former military man, and had children. It was a stable, content life; everything she desired. Steve was happy for her. Time had the expected effect on a middle-aged woman with two kids, but for him, maturity only added to her grace. She was as attractive as ever. 

“I can’t believe you’re asking this of me. A junior agent could handle this.” The Cold War had heightened HYDRA’s activities. Surely, there must be a better way to spend his time. 

“I am not asking anything of you. This letter was passed on through one of our agents in Turkey. The girl states she needs help getting back to the U.S. and will only trust Captain America. It is now a SHIELD matter. I’m simply here to hand it off.” 

That wasn’t the only reason. MI6 could certainly have sent one of theirs to New York. It was a good excuse to see him again. As suspected, he hadn’t changed a bit. The line of his chiseled jaw, the soft blue eyes, the broad squared shoulders. Even in a suit, his trim waist was apparent. All remained the same. She knew, first hand, the Super Soldier Serum enhanced cellular regeneration while slowing deterioration, but there was yet to be any outward sign of aging in seventeen years. That, in itself, would be difficult; not being able to grow old with the one you love. 

It was only natural that travelling down memory lane led to thoughts of intimacy. Sorry to say her husband had never quite measured up in the bedroom. She knew it wasn’t fair to compare him to an enhanced person, but it couldn’t be helped. However, there were many more important things her husband did give her that Steve simply couldn’t. Just as well to remind herself why they didn’t work well as a couple. They were both too headstrong and far too committed to their jobs. 

Reaching across the impressive mahogany desk, she passed him the letter. He opened it, detecting the faint scents of rose and orange. It was the first time he’d actually come across the trope he thought only a movie contrivance. Scanning the note, he then pulled out the enclosed photo. 

The woman was posed in a belly-dancer costume, mid-drift and a hint of cleavage exposed causing an uncontrollable flush to rise in his cheeks. She was young, exotic and very good-looking with long, dark hair pulled back from the temples and falling in gentle waves around her shoulders. His gaze traced the lines of her trim but soft curves. Her eyes were dark, but there was a playfulness about them that was engaging. “Well, it won’t be the worst assignment I’ve ever had.” 

He took a swift glance, up under the curtain of his lashes. If there was even a tiny pang of jealousy, Peggy didn’t show it. Silly to have presumed she would. Only the slightest twitch of her jaw divulged irritation. 

“I thought you said she’s American,” he continued. 

A file folder was opened and scanned. “Ayleen Adams, twenty-three years old. Her mother was Turkish. Both parents deceased. She has dual citizenship. Expatriate, college drop-out working at a dinner club in the downtown area. The only record of interest we have on her is being the former lover of Alexi Popov, a known Soviet spy. He still visits her on occasion.” 

Neither of the names were familiar to him, but they were ones he would surely never forget. "She writes he’s threatened her into service. Why her? Why me?” 

“Right now, there isn’t any more intel. We surmise the KGB simply saw an opportunity to try to eliminate you. Perhaps it’s just the first step in a more elaborate plan. Of course, there’s always the possibility there’s nothing more to it. There’s no reason not to believe she truly does want to get back to The States. Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t intend to get the book at all and is banking on the fact that once there, you’ll get her out anyway. So, you’re going to have to ensure she leads you to it. If she really wants out, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her to follow through.” 

“She’s probably scared. That could make it more difficult.” 

“Gain her confidence.” She knew Steve would do whatever was necessary short of cold-blooded murder. “Finding clever solutions has never been a problem for you. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

The letter had either been written and sent under direction, or the girl was truly desperate.  Whether or not  the  story was entirely true, or there was more than meets the eye, they had a duty to help. These types of missions always made him uneasy, though. He had been schooled well, but still his preference was to go in with a clear, direct plan and muscle his way out as needed.

Peggy saw he was perturbed and added, “SHIELD has the complete support of MI6. We have already sent word to our man, Kazim Yildiz in Istanbul. He’ll be at your disposal for anything you might need there.” She pressed the intercom button, “Miss Johnson? Please send in Mr. Stark.” 

He turned and stood as the door opened. The famous inventor stepped forward with a piece of luggage in his hand. When he placed it on the desk, Steve asked, “Got some new toys for me, Howard?” 

“Sorry, no gadgets this time. This mission doesn’t call for anything fancy,” the genius grumbled. “Underneath the leather binding, the case is made of a vibranium alloy. Almost as strong as the shield, but much lighter. There is the usual hidden panel so you can conceal your gun as well as the code book and a few other items if necessary.” He showed him how to access the hiding spot with one of the catches. 

Steve felt around the suitcase, “Hidden knives? Electronic devices?” 

With a shake of his head, and reaching into the enclosed shaving kit, Stark added, “The usual canned shaving cream explosive is here. You remember how to activate it?” 

“Twist the bottom. Five seconds before it goes off.” 

“You still have the watch?” 

“The one with the sleeping-drug dart? Yes.” 

“Good. These, plus your standard issue firearm, I don’t see why you would need anything else. You don’t even need the suit and shield this time.” 

“I’ve never gone on an away mission without them.” 

“The suit is still in repair. It’s only one girl and one little code book.” Stark neglected to mention that suit was also being redesigned to reflect the modern nuclear era. The last time he did so, Steve came to him with multiple ideas that mostly appealed to an artistic aesthetic. In his experience, it was best to avoid a battle of wills with Captain fucking America. 

Both Peggy and Howard followed him out the door into the reception area. The secretary sat straighter, putting her bosom on display then handed him plane tickets and verified his passport was up-to-date. With a cagey grin, she purred, “Remember, if there is anything you need Captain Rogers...anything at all...you only need to ask. Day or night.” 

It was the same thing every time with the secretaries. Over the years, he had gotten used to overt invitations from the agency’s assistants. Flirting was as far as he went anymore. Maintaining any sort of love life was difficult enough without the added complication of working with the girl. He’d learned that the hard way. 

Steve was also one to hedge his bets.  He flashed her a broad smile. “Don’t you worry. I won’t forget,”  he said with a wink before walking out the door.


	3. Istanbul

His apprehensions about the mission only seemed to get worse. SHIELD wanted the Soviets to think Rogers was visiting Turkey for some long overdue rest and relaxation. That meant using a commercial airline. Even flying first class, Steve hated that particular mode of public transportation. The only benefit was looking at pretty stewardesses. The upgrade didn’t make up for the fact that the machinery was always terribly loud and suffered regularly from turbulence. Often, he wondered that the things didn’t fall apart at the seams. He had definitely been spoiled by superior technology. 

Thank God he’d been given First Class tickets for some extra leg room. Sitting still for half the day was going to be enough of a challenge. Enhancement aside, he was never one to sit around idle. It wasn’t in his nature. _No use crying about it_ , he thought, trying to settle in as comfortably as possible. He spent the flight between unsuccessfully trying to nap and reading the new Ian Fleming novel brought along for amusement.  

Having nearly finished the book, which he found wildly outlandish, by the time they disembarked in Paris, he headed towards the connecting flight. Once again, he inwardly debated whether it would have been sensible to take a day for himself to revisit the city. At the very least he should have thought about giving himself more time before having to cram back into another of those flying sardine cans. The last time he was there was with Peggy. They had decided to celebrate VE Day’s fifth anniversary by meeting in The City of Love. The first twenty-four hours were spent solely inside the small hotel room, fooling around, sleeping, ordering room service, then starting all over again. They had signed the register as Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, only later to learn it was completely unnecessary. The French were much more liberal about that sort of thing. One more full day remained for them to enjoy the city as tourists. When then made love that night, neither of them knew it would be for the last time. 

A pernicious odor at the entry hatch shook him back to the present. Unable to resist the urge to cough, Steve covered his mouth, grimaced and begrudgingly found his seat. He had forgotten the particularly pungent nature of European cigarette smoke especially in enclosed spaces. At first chance, he would need to shower and have his clothes cleaned. 

Silently praying his luggage made the transfer, he watched out the window during takeoff, flinching slightly at the reflection. Only twenty-one when given the Serum, he was still occasionally surprised by the features that hadn’t changed much over the years. Most of his friends complained they didn’t feel as old as they looked. Steve had the opposite problem. The physical aging of his body may have slowed, but his soul had sustained much wear and tear in that time. Like HYDRA, evil itself had many regenerating heads. It would never be enough. Hard as he tried to avoid it, becoming jaded, burning out, was an increasing likelihood. 

He wondered what the younger Steve would have made of the man agreeing to traipse halfway around the world to steal, kill if necessary, for the United States government. Who was he kidding? The kid would have thought it a fantastic adventure. Young Rogers would’ve jumped at the chance. Heck, he already did.  

His mind turned to the plan at hand as they flew over the bright, calm Mediterranean. Here he was, once more, traveling to a romantic location, about to work with a beautiful woman where his whole concentration would need to be on a mission. He struggled to remember when his last intimate encounter had been. When he was home for more than a couple days? That was weeks ago. Over a month. Honestly, the one-night stand routine was starting to depress him. It only satisfied physical needs. The thing he missed most about Peggy was the emotional connection. She understood him like no one else. 

Steve reached into his wallet, pulling out the girl’s photo. He focused on her face, trying to ignore the alluring physique. _Who are you Ayleen Adams? How did a girl like you get into this mess?_ If her innocent looking eyes were merely an act, then she was very good at it. She was another mystery that needed unravelling. It wouldn’t do to bring a Soviet mole home. 

The touch down at Yesilkoy Airport was about as smooth as could be. If teeth rattling could be considered that. Regardless, he was grateful to be on the ground again. After the harrowing crash landing on Arctic ice, he always said a silent prayer of thanks for a safe flight. Stepping out of the plane, he was instantly struck by the hot, humid Ottoman summer. Given that he was supposed to be vacationing, he had opted for a Dacron short-sleeved button-down shirt and slacks. The easy care of the polyester resisted wrinkling, making it ideal for traveling. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very breathable. He began sweating instantly. Peggy had not exaggerated when she warned about the weather. 

Customs was the typical exercise in patience as they spent an inordinate amount of time going through his suitcase. Probably more out of curiosity than suspicion. But he knew better than to make any sort of complaint or hint of aggravation. They would only make him suffer longer. One of the guards recognized him and asked for his autograph on a handkerchief. Briefly, he considered bribing them to move things along, but he didn’t want to risk possible attention from the local authorities. When he finally made it through the terminal, a swarthy man wearing a chauffer’s cap approached.  

“Captain Rogers? Mr. Yildiz sent me. My name is Emre.” Taking the suitcase, he led the American to a shiny, blue Rolls Royce convertible. "I am to take you directly to your hotel. My employer assumes you would like to get settled before meeting.” 

As the Rolls rolled off, the Winter Soldier started his car parked in the adjacent lot. His handlers had insisted he blend in with other foreign business men, which meant giving him a close, conservative haircut, shaving and wearing a suit. There was little breeze that day. Despite having taken off the jacket and tie, sweat trickled down the back of his neck. The wait inside the vehicle under the Mediterranean sun had been stifling.  

Before he shifted into first gear, another car pulled out behind his mark. Barnes recognized the signs of a tail. The driver looked like a typical KGB goon. _What do they want?_ he wondered. There could be any number of explanations for them to have the American followed. Whatever they might be, now this meant an extra person to keep an eye on. He could not let anything deter Rogers from getting the code book. 

At the same time that Barnes thought, _The_ _idiot’s following too close,_ Steve was distracted by a glint in the rearview mirror. Taking a good look in the glass, he recognized the black Volga as the same one that had been behind them leaving the airport. They had been on the highway for at least a full ten minutes. There was only one reason for a car to remain directly behind them for that amount of time.  

The expert assassin continued to maintain a safe distance, varying speed and occasionally changing lanes. The Rolls was easy enough to track. _This moron must be fresh out of_ _spy_ _school_ , he thought. On the plus side, Rogers was undoubtedly watching the Soviet car, which meant neither of them knew there was another party involved. 

Steve leaned forward and notified the driver, “I don’t mean to alarm you, but we’re being followed. KGB.” 

With a glance in the mirror, he replied, “Should I lose him?” 

“No. This trip is supposed to be for leisure. Let’s play along for now.” 

They left the highway for roads that became steadily narrower. Steve was thankful for the convertible then, with the 360-degree view of the centuries old Eastern architecture mixed with modern Western influence. The historic district was chock full of places of worship, palaces, towers and other structures dating as far back as the Byzantine era intermingled with contemporary infrastructure. People from all walks of life and various nationalities wandered about the streets. It was a true melting pot, much like his home, if not more so. He was glad to have brought a sketchbook and some pencils, looking forward to doing some drawings later on. 

Once they pulled up to the modernized hotel, their shadow veered down a side alley. Barnes decided to follow, in effort to determine if there was more than a casual interest in the American’s visit. 

Steve was happy to see Mr. KGB go on its way. He made a mental note of the man’s profile, noting to keep a sharp eye out for additional surveillance. Hopefully, the Soviets were simply keeping tabs on him. The possibility that they somehow learned the truth concerned him. Complications would only slow down the mission. 

Retrieving the case from the trunk of the Rolls, Emre stated his employer would be calling later that evening. Cap thanked him and made his way into the hotel. As soon as setting foot in the room, he pulled out his suit. He called down to have it pressed along with his clothes laundered, then undressed. Moving into the bathroom, he turned on the shower and grabbed the bathrobe. No sooner had he done that then someone arrived to collect his laundry. Steve returned to the shower, repeatedly soaping and rinsing off until he could no longer detect the smell of foreign travel. 

When the phone rang, he was surprised to see the sun had gone down. The last thing he remembered was needing to put his feet up on the bed for a few minutes. It was Kazim. 

“How were your travels, my friend?” The men had yet to meet in person. The casual greeting implied suspicion of someone listening in. 

“As good as can be expected.” 

“Have you dined yet?” 

“No, actually.” 

“Good. I would like to show you a bit of Istanbul nightlife. Can you be dressed and ready in one hour?” 

“Sure. No problem.” 

“Very good. See you then.” 

Steve then called the front desk to have his clothes returned. From the luggage, he retrieved his gun and shoulder holster. While waiting, he unscrewed the cover of the phone’s earpiece, verifying it contained a bug. It looked Soviet made. Just as with the tail earlier, he decided to leave it for the time being. Sweeping the rest of the room, he found one more listening device in the chandelier. 

Once the laundry was brought up, he took time and care to get dressed. Kazim would take him to the club where Adams worked. Hopefully, Popov would be there as well. There was no need to engage with the spy yet, but he wanted to get a visual. 

Kazim’s car was in front of the hotel precisely when expected. As Steve slid into the back seat, he remarked the middle-aged Turk was nearly as big as he was. Despite the soft belly, it was obvious the man had been some sort of athlete in his prime. He wore a well-tailored, light colored suit, a heavy gold watch as well as a couple thick gold rings. The man had made his fortune as a shipping magnate as well as being an informant for MI6. 

With a boisterous, “Welcome to Istanbul,” Kazim clapped Steve’s shoulder and shook his hand forcefully.  

“Thank you. It’s my first time.” 

“Ah! You are in for a treat. This is where East meets West. You can find anything your heart desires as well as wonders you never even dreamed of.”  

“I’m only here for the job.” 

“In this city, you will soon learn business is always mixed with pleasure.” He laughed heartily. They were on their way. 

* * *

Across the street, The Winter Soldier sat at an outdoor cafe, casually smoking a cigarette. He would take his time. He knew exactly where they were going. 


	4. Nightlife

Shifting in the seat to look at Kazim, Steve said, “The KGB is tracking me.” 

“I’d be worried if they weren’t,” he snickered. He was a jovial man. When Cap eyed him curiously, he added, “The Turks and Russians spy on each other day and night. It keeps us both honest. Well, as honest as either knows how to be.” 

“My room is bugged.” 

“All the rooms are bugged.” 

“Why put me there then?” 

“To show we have nothing to hide. Of course, we do, but they don’t know that for certain. Keeps them guessing.” He reached for his wallet and pulled out a thick stack of bills. “I nearly forgot. SHIELD wired a stipend for your expenses. I’ve converted them to lira for you.” 

Steve thanked him and asked, “Have you learned anything more about the girl?” 

“Only her daily habits which are nothing of note. Aside from dancing and the company she keeps, there is nothing remarkable about her.” Silently, the SHIELD agent disagreed. “My sources did tell me this Alexi Popov is not very high up on the KGB food chain. There is most definitely a greater plan afoot, but no chatter about it. This is greatly concerning. We need to tread cautiously. This whole thing stinks, as you Yanks are fond of saying.” 

The car stopped by the curb and Emre let the men out. Before entering the club, Steve could smell the cooking spices, dark roasted coffee and, of course, sweet Turkish cigarette smoke. Following the hostess, the American glanced at the other tables. Despite their enticing aromas, the strange looking dishes were disheartening. He was starved after the long day of travel and worried over getting an acceptable meal. After ordering drinks, he let his guide do the honors, warning that his palate wasn’t very adventurous. 

Kazim decided to start off with meze, a variety of appetizers served with bread, so that the culinary novice could pick and choose. For the main course, he figured the Westerner would do well with sis kebab and pilaf, also ordering kofte and dolma for himself. By the time their dessert of baklava came along with the rich, thick coffee, the show was starting. 

As the room’s lights dimmed, the dance floor lit up including a few of the tables immediately surrounding them. Kazim discreetly pointed out Popov, near the edge of the stage. The KGB agent was slim and elegant. His face was classically handsome along with the stereotypical pompous air to go with it. Steve ruminated on how some women fell for those types that were always trouble one way or another. 

A band, including some unusual stringed instruments he had never seen before, had set up in front of heavy, black curtains at the other end of large room. Three female dancers of differing ethnicities each took a different position along the three sides facing the crowd. The drums started. The women began popping their hips in time to the rhythm and tapping tiny finger cymbals in their hands. Some of the patrons clapped along. The melody kicked in and the dancers spun and gyrated, covering the entire expanse of the smooth wood flooring. 

After a couple different sets of this type, the music stopped, the performers suddenly froze and the stage went dark. In only a few more beats, it was lit once again by a spotlight. The previous dancers were gone. In the middle of the floor stood a lone woman wearing a fitted bra top of red, gold and silver beading. More draped in loops beneath her breasts, down over her ribcage. Below the bare belly was a hip belt covered in the same tiny beads from which wide, red scarves skirted down to her ankles. It was a centuries-old design made to accentuate every curve of a woman’s body. The pose she held, with arms positioned above her head, her chin tilted towards the ground, a hip thrown wide with one leg peeking out from the flowing skirt was somehow both seductive and demure at the same time.  

The room was silent save for a few hushed whispers. Slowly lifting her face to meet the crowd, Steve recognized the girl from the photo. Ayleen’s tanned olive skin shimmered like satin under the lights. Her hips began to sway and roll in time with the new music to a much slower rhythm. Where the previous performance was exhilarating, this one was subdued and sensual. The movement of her body reminded him of cobra being controlled by a snake charmer, except he was the one that was mesmerized.  

Kazim leaned close and asked, “What do you think?” 

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the enchantress captivating almost everyone in the room. Easily imagining what was beneath that costume, he consciously tensed his jaw to keep his mouth from falling open like a drooling dog. Unconsciously, he leaned forward to get a better view. Remembering the stories of _1001 Arabian Nights_ from his youth, he became the king, and Ayleen was Scheherezade weaving a fantasy for him. This one featured no sages, genies or magic lamps. Hers was a tale of seduction and promises meant only for adults. He began to feel very warm and loosened his tie. 

It seemed, to Steve, an eternity before the dance ended with claps and cheers from the crowd, rousing him from the waking dream. Admonishing himself for the counterproductive thoughts, he took a long swig from his icy drink and asked the shipping magnate, “How do you suggest we make contact without alerting Popov?” 

“I will have a note delivered backstage. Let us select a tourist attraction where the two of you can meet seemingly by chance. Emre will pick you up at 10:30 a.m. She will find you there.” 

* * *

In a dark corner of the nightclub, Barnes sat taking a few cursory glances at the floor show. The only interest he had in the girl was her effect on Rogers. Smitten would be an understatement. The report to his handlers would indicate their plot seemed to be working better than they had hoped. 

* * *

Even as a small child, she had loved to dance. Her mother always had the radio or a record on while going about her chores. Whether modern popular songs or traditional folk music from her home country, Ayleen would spin and jump along. As she grew older, her mother taught her the art of _ciftetelli_. It was never a skill she thought would come in handy. 

After her parents’ deadly car accident, she grew disenchanted with university among other things. With no other direction, she decided to explore more of her foreign roots. The small inheritance awarded didn’t last long, however, and she needed to support herself. Luckily, she had one marketable talent.  

Dancing became more than a job while she tried to navigate a culture she had little knowledge of. It was a respite from the struggles of reality that also helped her assimilate in the strange country. She met people, made new friends and the applause at the end of a performance always made her feel accepted, accomplished. 

She was changing out of the costume after the third, and last, show when she noticed the note on her dressing table. It read, “Our American friend has arrived. Touring Hagia Sophia tomorrow 11 a.m.” The reminder of her current situation instantly deflated her elevated mood. She finished getting into street clothes then left the club along with the other girls, through the back door. Popov was waiting by his car, smoking. 

“Alexi,” she greeted curtly. “Did you enjoy the show tonight?” 

“You know I love to watch you dance, _zolotse_.” He turned his head only long enough to exhale cigarette smoke. “Did you notice your Captain America watching as well?” She did not respond. “You will be meeting him soon?” 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Excellent. Remember, it is imperative that you lead him to the code book, but don’t make it too easy. It will rouse his suspicion.” 

“But why? Why not just let me hand it over?” 

“Do not worry your pretty little head about such things. Do as you are told and all will be well. Come, I will take you home.” 

Ayleen did her best to hide the distain she felt as he helped her into the car.  


	5. Contact

The domed monument was arguably Istanbul’s most distinctive Byzantine landmark. Steve was glad to have requested Emre pick him up earlier than originally planned. The sixth century cathedral, turned mosque then later museum, was an architectural marvel. What a shame that his time in the ancient city was restricted. He could spend days wandering the historic sections. For the moment, he sat in front of the Hagia Sophia, happily sketching away, keeping an eye on his watch. The graphite pencil dashing across the page in the interest of time.  

The drawing also had the added benefit of distracting him from the conflicting emotions about the rendezvous. Last night, he had gone to sleep replaying the dance in his head over and over. Many times, he imagined her hips swaying for him alone. In the morning, he woke restless and jumpy. The thought stuck with him like a broken record. 

Concentrating on the mathematically precise lines of the building provided a respite from his uncharacteristic anxiety. Reluctant to stop, at the prescribed hour, he closed the book, tucked the pencil into the spiral spine and made his way through the brickwork of the visitor’s entrance. 

Even in a modest skirt and blouse, with her hair pinned up in a neat chignon, Ayleen was easily picked out of the crowd. Her trim, hourglass shape drew him like a beacon. She was with a tour group listening to the guide recite the history of one of many intricate mosaics. It was hard for him to believe she could look any more attractive than the previous night. Without the excessive makeup and harsh glare of stage lights, her youth and natural beauty were unobstructed. He sidled up next to her, ensuring some reasonable distance between them. His next breath drew in delicate, heady floral notes mixed with bright, energetic citrus. Same as the intoxicating scent from her letter.  

Maybe it was the taboo of getting involved during a mission adding fuel to the fire, but his desire was undeniable at that point. He wanted her. He wanted to know how it would feel, the motion of her with him buried deep inside. Aware the day’s heat wasn’t the only thing making his skin flush, he struggled with how to proceed as the air caught in his lungs momentarily.  

“Did I miss much?” he forced out in a whisper. Anyone following would, hopefully, assume they were meeting for the first time. Technically, they were. 

“No, we’ve only just started.” She turned to answer him. Having never seen The Captain in person, she was taken with his size, overwhelmed by it. Good-looking did not even begin to describe the hero. The cut of his jaw could have been carved by an ancient Roman artisan. Still, there was a warmth, a solace about him. His blue eyes looked kind and earnest. A pang of guilt about what she had to do washed over her, regardless of the reason. 

They moved along with the group to the next artifact and continued the innocent small talk of two people who have just met.  A few yards back, The Winter Soldier followed, staying out of the couple’s eyeline by keeping to the shadows. He simply needed to report in with their movements as well as ensure the plan continued on its directed course.  

Unusually swift footsteps nearby were detected by the assassin's enhanced hearing. A man in a dark suit approached the tour group, eyes directly on the Captain. His hand was in one pocket, obviously holding onto some kind of weapon. _Moron_. The Winter Soldier, quietly cut him off, grabbing his arm firmly. There was no hope of pulling out of the metal arm’s clutch. 

“Yuri, fancy meeting you here.” He held a pistol to the man’s side, putting on a fake smile. He growled in a low tone, “Take your hand out of your pocket. Slowly.” Continuing to hold on, he led him outside, watching to make sure there were no alarmed bystanders. “You’re coming with me.” Barnes did not ask why the KGB man was after Rogers. He didn’t care. He only knew the guy was getting in the way. A potential pitfall that needed to be remedied sooner rather than later. He forced the agent to the Volga parked on the street to hasten the getaway. The Asset took the gun from the Soviet’s jacket and told him to get in. Instructing the man to slide over to the passenger seat, the assassin continued holding the gun at him, demanding keys. Barnes drove off, in search of an appropriate place to rid himself of the trouble. 

When the tour ended, Steve suggested the pair get some lunch at a nearby café. Confident there hadn’t been anyone following closely enough to hear them, he could finally ask about Popov. Although he knew of their prior relationship, that didn’t prevent the sour feeling in his gut when she spoke about it.  

Ayleen chose her words carefully, telling the truth but omitting the information about HYDRA. She briefly considered doing so, but was not confident Cap could protect her from their long reach. She explained how, after the affair ended, he forced her to work for him. When asked to elaborate on the errands run, she could only share they would be messages or the occasional small package, always sealed. This, at least, was entirely true. Alexi never explained exactly what he was involved in. Once he revealed the truth to her, that was when she decided get help. 

He not only listened to her answers, but carefully watched her facial tics and body language. More time was then spent inquiring about her past. If she lied during any part of the interrogation, he would have picked up on the idiosyncrasies. The interview also served as a last-ditch effort to prove his yearnings were merely physical. Those could be contained. It didn’t work. The girl was just as intriguing as he imagined. Steve wanted to learn everything about her. 

Taking the bus, he escorted her home, partially to reaffirm neither of them were under surveillance. Without air conditioning, the apartment was hot. All the windows were open, letting in a relieving breeze. Large ceiling fans kept the air moving, but did little to alleviate the humidity. She offered him a drink which he accepted merely hoping to cool off a little. The glass also gave him something to do with his nervous hands. They felt charged, and the only way to ease the ache would be to touch her. 

Trying to focus on the task at hand, he asked, “What about the code book? Do you know where he keeps it?”  

“I’m sorry. I was afraid asking questions would be suspicious.”  

Steve shoved aside thoughts of how beautiful she was. “Are you sure he has it?”  

“He had it in an inside pocket of his jacket only a few days ago.” 

SHIELD was expecting results. “What does it look like?” 

“About the size of a diary or journal. Not very thick. It has a plain, brown fabric cover. No markings.” 

A bead of sweat appeared at the base of her throat, rolling down to the swell of cleavage. He swallowed hard. Despite the drink, he felt parched. "Any ideas on how to get your hands on it? That was the deal, after all.” 

“I know but I’m scared, Steve.” A quiver appeared on her lip and a tear fell from one eye. This was no act. The look was genuine, full of pleas for help.  

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, wiping at the wet streak. "I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do, but if he didn’t do it soon, something very unprofessional would happen. When she put her hand on his arm, he was done for.  

“How can I be sure the book isn’t the only thing you are willing to protect?” she asked. 

“You are more important than any Soviet secrets.” He could no longer hold back the need to give her some kind of comfort, reassure her that he could be trusted. His arms wrapped her in a secure hug and he stroked her hair. Ayleen gazed up at him with needy eyes. Steve lost the ability to think about anything else. There was no longer any code book, Soviet spy or mission. There was only the woman he was desperate to have. Taking her face in his hands, he pressed his lips against hers. A shiver ran through her. _Excitement? Fear?_ Once he felt the kiss returned, her arms wrapping around his waist, there was no going back. 


	6. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly smut, but there are a couple important plot points.

Steve lifted her and walked into the bedroom. He wanted to show off his strength, to reassure that he could handle any adversity coming their way. The kiss was broken and he laid her down on the bed, climbing in after.  Ayleen sat up, pulling the pins out of her hair, letting it cascade around her shoulders. Briefly, he wondered how domineering he should be to earn her confidence, then decided she most likely had her fill of men pushing her around. His movements slowed as he began gingerly removing each item of her clothing, tossing them aside.  

She was completely naked before him and he hadn’t removed a stitch. His hands travelled along her body as the artwork of curves and valleys burned into his memory. Her silky skin was already dewy with the heat of the room. 

“I’m at a disadvantage here, Steve.” She smiled shyly. No one had ever looked at her with such awe before. Guilt stung at her again. 

Swinging his legs back over the side, he stood to undress, letting everything drop to the floor. Used to the effect his body had on women, he appreciated her attempt at subtlety but noticed her eyes widen, nonetheless. He returned to her, prying her legs apart with his thigh which became marked with slick. Nudging a bit more, he encouraged her to rub against the massive quadricep, sighs escaping her throat. 

They lay intertwined, side by side for a few moments until he felt her push at his shoulder. She guided him onto his back, straddling him. The move was somewhat of a surprise. Very few women he had been with were assertive in bed. She took him in hand and led him into her entrance inch by glorious inch, eyes closed, savoring the feel of him. When she opened her eyes, she saw Steve’s dilated pupils watching. Her lower body began moving with small, precise motions. He sucked in his breath and held her hips, thrusting his own upwards wanting more. As she started riding him slowly, base to tip, his grasp tightened. When he tried to pull her tighter, Ayleen stopped and shook her head. He loosened his grip allowing her pelvis to roll to its own rhythm. 

Steve wasn’t used to letting the woman be in control, but his brain had shut down all logical thought. While a part of him wanted to pound into her until she cried out his name, the other, currently being aroused into ecstasy had won out. She moved his hands onto her ample bosom that he kneaded. Rolling the nipples caused her to arch, pushing further into his palms. He pulled himself up to a seated position, frantic to get his mouth on her. He licked and sucked at her breasts until they were both moaning. 

The pressure of climax was building. Every second that he didn’t come was a sweet torture that he never wanted to end. 

With her left arm wrapped around his neck, Ayleen reached the right down between his legs. The swollen tension, knowing he was close, excited her further. More stroking forced him to pull his mouth away in order to catch air. She ground into him, stimulating herself in addition to the hefty cock pulsing against everything inside her.  

He only needed to look at her to know she was close. Grabbing her ass, he pulled her in even tighter and she came undone. She threw her head back, arching so hard he slid a hand up mid-spine to keep her from falling away. As her walls clamped down around him, his body contracted with a release like never before. She continued to coax him until there was nothing left to give. 

Both of them panting, his head fell against her chest. Never had he felt utterly spent from a single encounter. She was still clinging to him as they came down together, sweaty and exhausted.  They fell back on the bed side-by-side trying to cool down. 

* * *

The couple was completely unaware that Barnes was in the apartment next door.  The camera had previously been set up on the tripod by the spyhole into the girl’s bedroom waiting for this moment. It took him all of five minutes to get more than enough photos to satisfy his superiors. Nothing more was of interest. He rewound then removed the film cartridge, pocketing it, then grabbed his cigarettes and left in search of something to eat.

* * *

She gave him a smile which he returned. “I’m working tonight. I’m going to shower. Can I get you anything?” 

Steve shook his head, no, then kissed her leisurely before she left him. He lay there for a few minutes allowing reason to come back to him. The agent inside was disappointed about what they’d done. The man, told that voice to shut up for once. Unless he was completely wrong about her, there was no reason a relationship should compromise this particular mission. He hoped instinct, telling him there were true feeling there, would prove correct. 

The sound of soft singing came from the bathroom, snapping his attention back onto Ayleen. Imagining her under the spray of water, hands wandering over her body as she washed, had him worked up again. He walked into the bathroom. 

“Ayleen?” he called out so as not to startle her. 

“Yes, Steve?” She drew back the plastic curtain. When she saw the state he was in, she slid it aside further, inviting him in. 

He immediately went down on his knees to taste her, relishing the salty sweetness like a starved man. As if he hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms of his entire life. After coaxing her legs further apart, his tongue delved deeper, exploring until she made the mewling sounds he was looking for. His erection was rock hard again, throbbing wildly and begging to be addressed. When she clutched at his wet hair, shouted out his name and shook against his mouth, he had to concentrate to keep from coming right then and there. 

As her legs stopped quivering, Steve placed a few more gentle kisses against her core. Then he stood, and spun her around sliding in once again. His eyes closed involuntarily and all his focus was on the feeling of her around his pulsing member. Reaching a hand around front to play with her folds, the other was used to pull himself deeper inside as he thrusted. 

She braced her hands against the tiles and panted, “Steve, you’re going to make me come again.” 

“Please,” he groaned in her ear. “You feel so good, Ayleen. I need you to come for me. I need to feel you squeezing me.” The smut talk in his deep, silky voice elicited another moan from her. He dragged himself in and out, pinching her clit until she was nearly crying. “That’s it, darling. Come for me.” 

Pushing against him, her back arched as he rubbed vigorously. With a shout, her entire body shook again. Steve pulled her hips tight to him as his own climax hit, a loud groan reverberating through the room.  

Kissing the back of her neck and shoulder, they remained in that position until he slipped out flaccidly. He turned her around again, this time kissing her mouth gently. “You are amazing,” he said. 

She grinned. “You’re pretty incredible yourself, Captain.” 

“Please don’t call me that. It’s just Steve for you. This has nothing to do with my job.” Something flickered in her eyes. A quick mood change. “You can trust me.” 

There were many other things he wanted to tell her, things about himself he wanted to share. It was still all too new. He didn’t want to scare her off by going too fast. Truth be told, he was starting to frighten himself a little. Maybe once they got stateside, the two of them could go away together for a couple weeks. Somewhere secluded. The idea of taking a real vacation after this was all over was more and more appealing. 

Ayleen was sure that Steve had no idea how much his expressions were giving away. His soulful, beseeching eyes made her want to tell him everything. She had expected her task to be easy, pleasurable even, but not to be falling for the SHIELD agent. She had a decision to make, and she needed to make it fast. 


	7. The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more smut in this chapter

Ayleen asked Steve to walk her to the club. The pit in her stomach would only get bigger if she didn’t fess up soon. When they hit the sidewalk, she took his arm. While she continued to deliberate, Steve made the decision for her.  

Still banking on the notion that she held real feelings for him, he opted to be straightforward. “Have I walked into a trap?” 

Her shoulders slumped slightly, indicating dejection. “Yes,” she answered struggling to fight back tears. “Please, keep walking as if nothing’s wrong. I’m being watched.” They continued strolling along, and she added, “Everything I told you was true, and what we shared, that’s not fake. Not on my part.” There was desperation in her voice. “I swear. I do care for you.”  

Unsure what the truth was at that point, he steeled himself and asked, “Why would the KGB want us to have these codes?” 

“It’s HYDRA,” she whispered. 

That certainly made more sense. It was definitely the organization’s modus operandi to manipulate politics. “What is the end goal?” 

“I don't know. I was just told to play my part or be turned in as a double-agent. Steve, I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt and I need you to trust me.” 

For a few moments he debated whether to forge ahead with the current plan and try to trip them up or simply take Ayleen and run. Sadly, her life was already at risk. Leaving the book behind wouldn’t help them one way or another. 

They reached the dinner club. He took a long look at her. She definitely wasn’t a spy, that was for sure. There was none of the reserve or necessary hardness. The poor girl was living in fear. Something needed to be done about that soon, even if it meant failing the mission. Before she went in, he told her he needed time to think and come up with a plan. He would see her the next day. “Try not to worry. I’ll make sure you get out.” 

“So, you believe me?” she pleaded. 

“I don’t have a choice,” he said, kissing her hard then turning to leave. 

* * *

Back at the hotel, there was a message waiting. Up in his room, he again debated on disposing of the bugs, opting to leave them be. It was safest to assume they were HYDRA’s. In any case, removing them could put Ayleen’s life in immediate jeopardy.  

Next, he returned the call from Kazim, who insisted on meeting at his home. He showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes then was off with Emre within the hour, winding their way through town. 

The Yildiz house, at the edge of the city, was a mansion by most standards. It rose three levels above ground and was flanked by numerous, large date palms. A balcony wrapped around the entire second story where his cohort happened to be standing, smoking a cigar. The man saw the Rolls coming up the drive and ducked inside. 

The interior of the home was even more opulent. The foyer featured a grand wooden staircase, marble flooring and a giant, crystal chandelier hanging from the elaborately painted ceiling high above. The owner, himself, met Steve at the huge front door, escorting him into the family’s casual living area. There were four additional men there that turned out to be Kazim’s sons. After the round of introductions, the two conspirators were left to their business. 

“I like to get the shop talk out of the way before dinner. It’s better for the digestion,” the shipping magnate chuckled. “Did you see anything unusual at the Hagia Sophia today?” 

“Other than the artifacts, no.” 

“A KGB agent was found dead, nearby in his car. That wasn’t you?” 

“No. I sat out front for an hour, then was with Ayleen for the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t see him.”  

Kazim involuntarily raised an eyebrow, even though the revelation about the agent’s activities wasn’t the least bit shocking. “Very likely it had nothing to do with us. What have you learned about the code book?”  

Steve reiterated everything he had been told. “Do you have any suggestions?” 

“The oldest way would be the easiest way.” 

“I would never ask that of anyone. Besides, even if she agreed, she’s too scared to pull it off. He would see her coming a mile away.” 

The older man looked his friend over carefully. The American was falling for the girl. It was obvious. Westerners were always hopeless romantics.  “Rogers, what makes you trust this woman? I don’t have to tell you what the risks are.”

“When you meet her, you’ll see. She doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body.”

“She’s already lied to you once.”

“Not a lie, a necessary omission.”

The Turk huffed.  “ Well, the next best thing is always greed.”

“The thing Popov values most is power. We can’t offer him that.” 

“With enough money, power can be bought, especially with our Soviet neighbors.” 

“How much do you think we should offer? It might take a while to have the money wired over.” 

“Don’t be silly. That’s just the lure. Have Ayleen call him to set it up tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to be done with this mess and get on with my normal business.” 

* * *

Steve went to see Ayleen at her apartment again the next day to tell her about the plan. The night before, after putting up with more than enough teasing from Kazim, the SHIELD agent decided to keep the relationship strictly business from that point forward. He wasn’t keen on the idea, but they had things to work out before thinking anymore about themselves.  

It turned out her thoughts were elsewhere. When he arrived, she was all over him like a wildcat and he couldn’t help but respond.  

He pulled away, heard himself insist, “We need to talk,” but somehow there was nothing but a flurry of lips and hands. Whispering in her ear that they should assume someone was listening didn’t do much to dissuade her. The next thing he knew, he was on the couch with his pants around his ankles, cock in her mouth. He grew impossibly hard to the point where she could only focus on the head. The way she manipulated the shaft and balls, alone, would have been enough to take him apart. When she ran her tongue along the tip, then underneath, sucking at the same time, he completely lost it. His head fell back as his hips thrust forward. It took all of his control to keep quiet. While he collected himself, she wiped at her mouth. Coquettish lashes batted at him.  

Placing a finger to his lips, he asked for silence. A search through the apartment turned up one listening device in the living room and one in the bedroom. Again, he chose to ignore them. 

Returning to the living room, he sat her down and asked, “What was that all about?” His attempt to be firm failed. His cheeks flushed anew at the recent memory. 

“It didn’t make you happy?” 

“Of course it did, but we have work to do. We need to keep cool until this mission is complete, sweetheart.” 

“Whatever you think is best, Steve.” 

Seeing her slight pout, he said, “Damn it, Ayleen” and pulled her onto his lap. 

* * *

In the morning, one of Kazim’s younger son’s went to the Soviet consulate disguised as an exterminator. He told the front desk that rats had been reported. The woman nervously told him to proceed about his business. He wandered down the halls, looking in this room and that until he located Popov’s office. Then, finding a convenient cold return air vent in the hallway, he removed the grill and surreptitiously planted a small, timed incendiary device. The grill was screwed back into place and the young man made his way out of the building. 

Making sure he wasn’t being followed, he strolled down the street and sat on a park bench where Steve was waiting. The location of the Soviet’s office was transmitted to the SHIELD agent. 

Ten minutes later, Steve Rogers went to the same receptionist, stating that he had a meeting with Popov. As she phoned the office, an explosion sent smoke throughout the east wing. Steve helped escort people out as they hurriedly evacuated the building. When it looked like almost everyone was gone, he ran, as directed, until he found Popov’s office. It was empty. He rifled through the desk until he got to a locked drawer. Forcing it open revealed the code book which he quickly grabbed and slipped into a hidden pocket in his jacket. Then he found his way out through a side door and casually slipped away. 


	8. The Orient Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READERS: Please "beta" this chapter for me. Action and Suspense are not my forte. I'd like to know what works and what doesn't; what it might need more of. As always, any type of constructive criticism is welcome, whether it's a typo or major plot hole.
> 
> Let me know!

The last call for passengers to board sounded by the time Steve made it to the platform. Trusting his companions were already on the train, he hopped on in a rush, finding himself in what must have been the cheap section. The car was packed, noisy and muggy despite all the windows being open. There were simply too many bodies crammed into one space. Pushing his way through the hoard of locals carrying various baskets, babies and even small farm animals as politely as possible slowed progress towards the much more hospitable sleepers. Odors worse than those on the plane ride emanated from the beasts as well as baskets full of all manner of foodstuff. Romanticized notions of The Orient Express were swept away with a wave of displeasure as he passed through a number of cars to finally find the one in which Kazim was consoling a panicked Ayleen watching out the glass.  

She rushed into his arms soon as she spotted him. The Turk handed over a ticket and led them to their cabins. Joining compartments had been booked. Waiting for Steve was the SHIELD suitcase that had been handed off to Emre before heading to the consulate. Passport and service weapon already on him, the case was left, set atop the overhead rack next to Ayleen’s.  

Concerned over the threat of HYDRA monitoring border crossings, Kazim left for the engine room in order to speak to the conductor. The door was barely closed when Ayleen again threw her arms around Steve. “You did it. Is it really over?” 

A pat of his suit jacket indicated the code book was, indeed, in hand. Reaching to shut the door as well as the adjoining one, he answered, “I’m afraid we’re not quite out of the woods yet. We have quite a few borders to cross before making the rendezvous with MI6 in Vienna, but I think we can breathe a little easier.” 

His mouth landed gently on hers, savoring the returned pleasure from her soft lips. Turning, they both broke away so that he could pull down the back of the sofa, converting it to a bed.  

She giggled, “Darling, Kazim will be back within minutes.” Trailing more kisses along her collar and breast bones, he grumbled a wordless protest.

Kazim did soon return, stating everything was arranged. He had bribed the conductor so the train would stop before they reached Bulgaria due to a broken-down car in the middle of the track courtesy of one of his sons. That was when the couple would depart. They were to meet in the dining car no later than six pm.  

The restless collaborator then decided he wanted to wander around the train to make sure they hadn’t been followed. He also wanted to speak with the porters to see if anyone had been asking questions. 

Steve said, “Now to pick up where we left off.” As he locked the door behind him, Ayleen did the same to the cabin separator. 

Wordlessly, he took her hand, placing lips against the palm then the wrist. Slowly unbuttoning her blouse, he let her work at his tie then his shirt as well. All clothing was removed, carefully draping each item over the room’s mounted hooks. They pressed their nude bodies flush against each other. The necking resumed, slow and languid, until they were breathless. Controlled, purposeful foreplay continued and grew heated as fingers wandered over contours.  

Maintaining the lip lock, Steve lifted Ayleen onto the bed. A small sigh escaped her when he pulled away to climb in. His mouth took it's time trailing a path from her neck, under her jaw and downward. The rise and fall of her chest quickened with shallow breaths. When she began mewling, his eyes flew open. He immediately rolled on top of her, framing her face with each side of his hands. Staring into her eyes, his thick, heavy manhood pushed past her folds. Her hips thrust upwards in response. She gasped at the pleasure of feeling him stretch and fill her again. 

One of Steve’s biggest turn-ons was her reactions to his body and ministrations. Ayleen was demonstrative, expressions and sounds clearly indicating exactly how much pleasure he was giving. Watching her mouth fall open, the darkening of her eyes, the flush of her skin, the roll of her hips, all excited him to the point every nerve was overstimulated. He loved the feel of being on the precipice of wanting to draw out the pleasure and completely letting go. 

Hiking one leg up, he ran his hand underneath, encouraging her to wrap it around his back. The other followed as she buried her face into his shoulder. He drove slowly and deeply, filling her fully. The movements made each breath catch in her throat followed by a grunted release. Desperate for more, she begged, “Steve, please. Faster.” 

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips deep enough that they would surely leave bruises. She could care less, and the idea of marking her in such a way drove him crazy. The cry of his name leaving her lips drew him closer to the abyss with each thrust. Wrapping her arms around his neck, clutching at his scalp, Ayleen’s body began clenching and undulating around him. Steve stilled, savoring the pulsing surges until his own release came with a lengthy shudder. 

As Kazim was returning, a man walking down the corridor ahead of him stopped at Cap’s door and briefly put an ear to it. Moving on, the man entered the cabin on the other side of the Americans. The Turk placed his own ear to the stranger's door, hearing nothing. He waited a couple minutes, then knocked, calling, “Tickets”.  

The door was opened to a tall man with cold, steely blue eyes. Kazim had a pistol drawn, held close to his body, hidden by his opened suit jacket. Before even a word was uttered, The Asset swiftly wrenched the gun from the aggressor with his left hand while pulling him inside with the right.  

The couple quickly dressed and went to the dining car as the clock’s hands head towards six. The train did not stop as planned and there was no sign of Kazim. Five minutes past the mark, the normally cool agent began unconsciously bouncing his right leg underneath the table. Picking up the mood, Ayleen twisted a napkin in her lap. Cap was full-out worried but neither saw nor heard any sign of immediate trouble. It didn’t make any sense. Ten minutes past, he decided they should go back and check the cabin. There was no answer at Kazim’s door. From their side, Steve forced open the divider to an empty room. He asked Ayleen to stay put and keep the doors locked while he went to search the train. 

"Be careful," she called after him.

Stepping across the threshold, he saw a distressed porter down the hall. Not much older than a kid, the shaken man showed Cap the body he had found. A simple check for a pulse confirmed Yildiz was dead. There was visible, deep bruising around the windpipe. What was puzzling were the marks of only one hand. Whoever had done this was exceptionally strong.    

There would be an investigation once the murder was reported, which would be highly inconvenient. Travel would be halted and everyone sequestered onboard. Steve bribed the porter to keep the situation quiet until the train reached Vienna when the couple would be long gone. He closed the door, saying a silent prayer for the family man. 

Angry determination coursed through Steve’s veins as he returned to Ayleen. “Kazim is dead,” he spat out in an intense moment of doubt. 

She gasped loudly, covering her mouth, then began weeping. “What happened?” 

“You don’t know?” 

“How would I know?” she continued to cry. Looking into his eyes revealed exactly what he was thinking. “Steve, I promise you, I know nothing.” 

He grabbed her upper arm hard and forced her onto the couch. She didn’t resist at all, other than a surprised squeak. “Listen here. A good man is dead. My friend. We could be next. If there is anything you haven’t told me, anything at all, you’d better tell me now.” 

"You’re scaring me, Steve,” she wailed. There was a dark, fierce look on him. For the first time, she was face-to-face with Captain America. Her eyes pled for mercy. “The only thing I haven’t told you is that I love you.” 

Relaxing and pulling her tight, he stroked the head nuzzled into his chest. “Oh, Ayleen. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Kissing the top of her skull, he said, “This couldn’t be worse timing. I love you, too. But HYDRA is somewhere on this train.” 


	9. Derailed

Watching Steve who silently stared out of the window, Ayleen was lost in thoughts of her own. Here they had each confessed their love, but for now, that had to be ignored. The critical task at hand was getting away from HYDRA. While she had faith in Cap, there was a nagging reminder that, she hadn’t had much luck with men lately. If she wasn’t anxious enough, she was obviously out of her depth and completely reliant on the SHIELD agent to resolve their situation. The damsel-in-distress role was not at all to her liking. 

She would not have guessed that Steve’s thoughts were, in that moment, on the developing relationship. Supremely confident in his ability to complete the mission with both of them unscathed, he was more concerned with what would happen once it was all over. Ayleen would need time to get settled once they got back to The States. Hopefully, that meant with him, but considering his lifestyle, perhaps it would be better for her to get a true understanding of all that entailed before asking for any type of commitment.  

In matters of the heart, he doubted himself. Ayleen was unlike Peggy in very many ways. Still, one couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline during a mission affected his emotions. Did he confuse the excitement of an op with the women involved? Only time would answer that, he supposed. 

There was also the question of her future security. Would they come after her? Giving her a new identity was always an option worth considering, but that would also necessitate cutting ties. That was something he did not want to think about. 

The train reached the station in Belgrade. Cap told Ayleen to stay locked in the cabin once again while he went out for fresh air. He hoped to draw out HYDRA goons. A few feet down the platform, he was approached. 

“Do you have a light?” the young man asked, pulling out a cigarette. 

“Sorry, I don’t smoke.” 

“I am a friend,” he responded in a low tone, putting the case back in his pocket. “Kazim’s son sent me. Had a hell of a time beating the train. Why didn’t it stop as planned?” 

Time was against them. The guy could be an enemy, in which case Steve needed to tread carefully. But they were also in a hell of a bind. Steve took a chance the man was who he claimed. “I hate to tell you this, but our friend has been murdered.” 

Stifling a gasp and trying to remain calm, the man asked “How?” 

“HYDRA. Someone incredibly strong. The conductor must be complicit as well.” The train whistle blew.  “Listen, I need you to get the message to Director Margaret Carter at MI6, and tell her we need an assist.” 

The men parted and Steve got back on the train not realizing that he had been overheard. Barnes had followed just close enough to pick up the entire conversation with his Super Soldier hearing. 

Steve reunited with Ayleen and reassured her that help was on the way. In the meantime, they should act normally, like a couple vacationing. They dined in the restaurant car, struck up idle conversations with other travelers then retired for the evening. 

They woke when the train stopped in Zagreb. Cap once again went out to the station platform. He was approached by another suited stranger. This one looking very familiar. As the man drew closer, Steve felt more and more off-balance. The likeness to his closest friend who had died in the war was uncanny. He was bigger, stronger surely, and harder around the edges but the eyes were the same. Except there was something off. They seemed lifeless. 

“Rogers? My name is Nash. Carter sent me.”  

That voice. It was definitely him! Stifled for a moment by the realization and trying to figure out how it was even feasible, Steve stood frozen, staring at him. “Bucky?” he finally whispered in shock. 

“I said my name is Nash. Bill Nash.” 

The assertion was so resolute that he assumed Bucky was protecting his cover. A million questions rushed through Steve’s brain, but he played along and the men got back on the train. 

Ayleen let them both into the cabin. As Steve slid the door shut, he said, “Okay, Bucky. Now talk.” 

A gun was produced and pointed at the couple. “Look, Rogers. I don’t know who this Bucky fellow is. I’m a HYDRA operative named James Barnes also known as The Winter Soldier.” There had been the smallest of shifts in the cold, steel blue eyes. Almost undetectable, it was enough to give the blond hope. 

Steve guffawed, _“_ _You’re_ The Winter Soldier? That's rich, Buck.”  

Barned brought the gloved left fingers to his mouth and used his teeth to pull it away, revealing the metal hand beneath. 

The questions that were already running through Steve’s mind where overrun by dozens more, causing complete chaos. What he saw and heard was incomprehensible. “James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Don’t you recognize me?”  

“Sure. You’re Captain America.”  

It dawned on him that this was Kazim’s killer. There was no gag, no joke. The man he had grown up with, fought alongside during the war had somehow been removed, replaced with a coldblooded assassin.  “I’m your friend Steve. We grew up together. I don’t understand. What happened? The Bucky I knew would have died before going to the other side.” 

Having grown tired of the nonsense, Barnes shouted, “Stop calling me Bucky!” He grabbed the woman, holding a gun to her head. To Rogers, he said, “I have a mission to complete. Give me your weapon.” Cap carefully eased the gun from his jacket and attempted to hand it over. “This isn’t my first rodeo. You know the drill.” Steve then placed the gun on the floor and kicked it over to their captor. 

“What mission?” 

"Ensure Rogers gets the code book. Take pictures of him with the woman. Eliminate her and Captain America.” 

“Pictures? What pictures?” 

“The two of you in very uncompromising positions.” 

Ayleen gasped, “You pig!” 

Placing a comforting hand on her arm, Steve asked, “What’s the point of all this?” 

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Now, enough talk.” The assassin shoved the girl back into her lover’s arms as he retrieved the agent’s pistol. 

“Now, on your knees. Both of you. Hands behind your heads.” 

“Look, I’m happy to give you whatever you want, just let her go.” 

“The mission must be completed.” As they complied, The Winter Soldier pulled a silencer from the inside of his jacket and screwed it onto his own gun. “Where is it? It must be found with you.” 

The book was still in the SHIELD suitcase which Barnes retrieved off the shelf then handed to Cap. When he moved to unlatch it, he instead pressed a particular button on his wristwatch directing a sleep dart towards Barnes. It entered his neck, but only caused him to get a bit woozy.  

Staggering, he growled, “What did you do?” and pointed the gun at Cap’s forehead.  

Ayleen dove behind her protector who lifted the vibranium case just in time to deflect the bullet. In the close quarters, it hit the shooter's arm wrenching the gun loose. It fell to the floor. To avoid her getting hurt, Cap pushed Ayleen into the next room and shut the door. During this, Barnes had drawn a knife. The space was too confined for the wielder to gain any leverage. The men struggled. There was a flurry of short jabs and parries. Barnes pushed away trying to force an advantage. Cap took that opportunity to kick the HYDRA operative square in the gut, forcing him through the window of the moving train. Steve looked through the broken glass in time to see the Winter Soldier roll safely away from the tracks. 


	10. The Getaway

The fracas heard in the adjoining cabin had stopped, replaced by a another, odd, continuous sound. A minute or two passed before Ayleen was able to get her breathing under control and cautiously slide the door open. A swift burst of air hit her and continued to blow steadily. There was no sight of The Winter Soldier. The large glass window had been shattered and her hero sat, head in hands, oblivious to the wind rushing in. The train continued speeding along the track. 

She darted through the cabin, asking, “Are you alright? Where is he?” 

His thoughts were back in the war, recalling the mission to stop Arnim Zola. The one time his best friend, the one person he could always count on, needed saving, Steve failed him. Ever since that fateful day, there were still nights he would wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his face, unable to get back to sleep. Fate having given him a chance at redemption, he instead added insult to injury by being the one to force Bucky out.  

Steve managed to choke out, “I pushed him off the train.” 

Her arms wrapped him up in consolation. “You said you knew him?” 

Succinctly as possible, he told her about Bucky’s tragic fall. “HYDRA must have gotten to him again after he dropped into the ravine. His oldest pal in the entire world, and here I go and shove him off of another moving train.” 

He was so distraught they didn’t notice the locomotive slowing until it came to a full stop. It was then Cap’s internal warning system sounded an alarm. The need to promptly assess the situation shook him out of his despondency. “There’s no station here. Something isn’t right.”  

He found and pocketed both guns, then smashed out the remainder of glass from the window. Ayleen asked what he was doing, to which he replied, “It’s time to go.”  

He took a quick look through the opening.  Seeing no one on that side of the track, he helped her exit. With feet safely on the ground, he directed, “Behind you. Run over and hide behind that raised berm.” She did as directed while he grabbed the luggage and jumped down from the sleeper.  

He joined her, super soldier ears picking up some voices coming from down the track. They lay low. He decided to run a few yards, hidden behind the mound of earth, to find out why they had stopped. There was a junkheap of an automobile sitting in the middle of the track. He waved Ayleen to join him and surmised, “Must be a popular ruse in these parts. I bet this was Bucky’s exit strategy.” 

Several porters helped push the vehicle away from the track. The owners continued working at it until the Express pulled away. Once clear, they shut the hood and walked towards the doors. Drawing both firearms, Steve charged towards them before they could get in. The two men put their hands up. 

“Where are the keys?” 

The taller one motioned at the car. Cap shouted for Ayleen. The cases were brought along and deposited in the backseat. He then handed her one of the guns. With the windows that were already rolled down, the couple continued holding the men at bay until they were able to drive off. 

“Where are we going?” She had to shout over the noise of the rutted road and clunky, old jalopy. 

“Koper. I think our best shot is to boat across to Venice. There’s an embassy there. Take a look in the glovebox for a map.” 

They were in luck and she unfolded it in her lap. “Do you have any idea where we are?” 

“Actually, no. I'll follow this road for a bit, see if we come across some road signs and, hopefully, a fuel station.” They chugged along for at least another ten miles before they came to an intersection indicating their location. Steve found an out-of-the-way spot to pull over so they could determine the best route. 

Detected off in the distance, Cap paid little note to the distinctive sound of chopper blades. He drove back to the main road, continuing per the directions he wanted to take. Eventually, the helicopter flew along the thruway with them. He thought nothing of it until he realized it was following. Speeding up as much as the clunker would allow didn’t do much good other than get them to the outskirts of town. They reached a deserted straightaway when shots started firing at them from above.  

Ayleen screamed, instinctively curling up as tight as possible. Bullets rained down on and around the vehicle. “Get as low as you can,” Steve commanded. The car was turned sharply to the side of the road and stopped. The helicopter passed overhead and began turning in a wide arc. He grabbed the vibranium case, got out and ran for a nearby hill hoping they would go for him first.  

He opened up the luggage piece and found the can of shaving cream. When their pursuers headed back towards him, opening fire, he twisted the bottom. Shielding himself with the suitcase, he hurled the explosive at the chopper where it detonated on impact. The pilot veered off, unsuccessfully trying to find somewhere to touch down. Control was completely lost and they crashed into a high bluff, going down in flames. 

Steve ran back to the car. Ayleen was shaking but otherwise uninjured. Unfortunately, the vehicle didn’t fare as well and wouldn’t start. Under the hood, bullets had disabled the engine. He didn’t know how long it would be before more thugs came after them. Without other options they started walking down the road, Steve bearing their bags. 

Neither of them was wearing shoes meant for extended walking or the rough terrain. Ayleen gave up on her heels and decided to barefoot it. Stockings, soon shredded, were soon disposed of. Despite all these pitfalls, she hadn’t made one word of complaint. Undoubtedly, she wasn’t tickled about their circumstances, but Steve was impressed nonetheless. Most other civilians, male and female alike, would have become frantic long before.  She was definitely tougher than she looked. 

An hour of walking led them to a copse of trees where Steve said they should rest in the shade. His guard came up once more when a large form appeared in the distance. It was headed their way. Watching carefully, they soon realized it was a caravan of travelers.  

The lead wagon, hence those following, stopped when it reached the couple. The driver noted their clothing and asked, “American?” Cap confirmed and the man asked in heavily accented English, “Can we be of help?” 

“We need to get to Koper. There are some really bad people after us.” 

The man took a closer look at the couple, deliberated with his companion for a moment, then invited, “Come. We take”.  All the few stories Steve had heard about Romani ran through his head. Traditionally, they were wary of others, so he hadn’t anticipated any assistance. After some consideration of his own, he decided there was a potentially greater reward of untraceable safe passage versus any of the minimal risks. He handed up their luggage then assisted Ayleen aboard before making the climb himself. 

For three days and two nights, they travelled with the nomads before the caravan stopped as close to the city as they dared. Their guide took a couple horses and escorted Steve and Ayleen to a friend who owned a small motor boat by the sea. Steve paid him more than enough money to pay for it as well as both men’s troubles. The couple was provided with keys, navigation charts, and blankets. Insistent that Ayleen go below and rest, Steve took the helm and shoved off. 

The Adriatic was calm that night, reflecting the bright moon that had risen above. He was grateful for the handwoven fabric wrapped around his shoulders as well as the thermos of coffee their Good Samaritans had insisted they take along. Heaven knew he had plenty of field experience going long periods without sleep, but with his adrenaline having levelled off, weariness had started to kick in. 

Thankfully, he need only to continue heading west across the water. With the fuel they had on board, he had calculated they would have to travel very slowly in order to make Venice. On the one hand, they were less conspicuous among the few cruise ships and other boats drifting that way. On the other, if HYDRA found them, they were sitting ducks.   

As luck (and he couldn’t imagine it being anything more) would have it, the night passed uneventfully.  Ayleen reemerged topside as dawn was barely breaking. She greeted him with a weary smile and a kiss. “Do I call you Captain Captain now?” she teased. 

This elicited a chuckle mostly for the fact she could find some humor in their predicament. He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s nice to see you so cheery this morning.” 

“I had time to do some thinking last night. Over the past few months I’ve been cursing my stupidity having fallen in with that terrible, evil man. But I’d do it all over in a heartbeat if it was the only way to get to you.” 

“After going through all this, seeing firsthand the kind of danger my work involves, you still want to be with me?” 

“I learned early there are no guarantees in life. I’d really like to spend the time we do have being happy.”  

The sun was high overhead when Steve finally docked. They went straight to the American embassy where he contacted SHIELD, informing them he had both the code book and the girl.  

The couple checked into a hotel suite where they slept until late, ate room service, made love then slept again. In the morning, they had prepared to leave for the airport when a knock at door claiming, “Bell hop” came to collect their things.  

It was Popov wielding a gun in order to finish the job properly. 

“Why? What could HYDRA possibly gain from all this?” Steve asked, placing himself between Ayleen and the weapon. 

“The already untrusting Soviet and U.S. governments are at this moment arguing about the disappearance of that book.” He took a small cylinder out of his pocket. “Once this film is developed and the photos spread worldwide, the U.S. will be accused of using SHIELD to spread propaganda to their own people. HYDRA will step in and offer the American people leadership they can finally trust including strengthened ties to Russia, effectively ending the Cold War.” 

“Peace through world domination.” 

“Semantics,” the operative sneered. “Let’s finish this. Where is it?” 

The suitcase was produced, opened and Steve opened the hidden compartment revealing the volume in question. It was closed back up and Ayleen was instructed to take it out of the room. The two men kept their eyes on each other as Popov slowly backed out. Determined to finally gain some control over her own destiny, Ayleen stuck her foot out. The Russian tripped. Cap swiftly drew his gun, shooting him in the chest. Almost instantly, HYDRA's man fell dead to the floor.  


	11. Results

Thrown from the train, Bucky had hit hard but rolled away from the train tracks relatively unscathed. His suit was a wreck and he bore a few bruises and scrapes. There was pain in his pectoral muscle due to the weight of the metal arm pulling at an awkward angle during his abrupt landing, but that would right itself soon enough. Luckily, the cybernetics still functioned normally, otherwise he would have no way to repair it. 

He walked for miles until reaching the next station. There he cleaned up as best he could in the restroom. There were no taxis available in whatever backwater he had wound up in. Eventually, he found a local who was willing to take him into town for a few dinars. With the cash he had left, he was able to buy some new, inconspicuous clothes and a meal at a small inn. It was late and the proprietress said they were closing. He considered asking if he could exchange work for a room for the night but decided it would be better to keep moving.  

Barnes lit his last cigarette and walked into the night. Rogers’ strange assertions kept playing through his head. When he had mentioned growing up together, strange images of both men together flashed before him as if he had actually lived through the events he was seeing. Not only that, unable to break the murk of HYDRA’s formula, the emotions attempting to bubble to the surface were undecipherable. The fleeting impressions didn’t make any sense but at the same time felt familiar. Could there be any truth in these things? 

Something in the back of his mind was relentlessly pushing forward, trying to gain purchase. He didn’t yet know where it was coming from but it desperately clung to Rogers’ words, refusing to let go. If he reported back to the base, they would wipe him again and the voice would disappear. He couldn’t let that happen until he understood what it wanted. 

* * *

Helmut Brauer spat out, “It’s been over four days since he was supposed to report in.” 

“We would have had word by now if he were dead. I think he’s gone underground,” the Soldier’s handler postulated. 

“How is that possible?” 

“The longer he is out of cryo, the more unstable he becomes.” 

“Rogers and the girl are back on American soil as we speak. New fist of HYDRA, indeed. You have failed the organization and made me look foolish.  Get him and fast or it’ll be your head.” 

“It will require extensive resources in order to retrieve him. Most likely we’ll lose a lot of men.” 

The weaselly man screamed, “Find him, wipe him, reprogram him. I don’t care what it takes. But bring James Buchanan Barnes in then put him back on ice.” 

* * *

Heavy, sticky eyelids blinked open as bright sunlight assaulted her last vestiges of sleep. For a moment, she didn’t recognize where she was. The rest had been deep and, to her recollection, dreamless. Her lips spread into a relaxed smile as memories of the previous night reached both mind and body. Rolling onto her side, the grin broadened seeing Steve’s exposed back. The urge to reach out to trace every curve of the powerful muscles were quelled only by the awe of finally seeing him at peace. 

The steady rise and fall of his ribcage indicated he was still asleep. Ayleen slipped out of the bed silently then stole his shirt that had been hastily discarded on the floor. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she tiptoed into the kitchen. A thorough search yielded only some coffee which would have to be taken black. There was nothing else. By the time it finished brewing, Steve emerged in his boxer shorts. 

“I knew I smelled coffee,” he said as they embraced. 

“I keep forgetting about your enhanced senses, but I’m glad you’re up. There’s not a thing to eat.” She had been so fatigued by the time they reached the apartment, she hadn’t paid much attention to the surroundings. He seemed to own only very basic necessities, the one luxury being a small television set. “You live like a monk.” 

“Honestly, I didn’t have much reason to spend a lot of time here. But, I want you to be comfortable, so whatever you need, whatever you want, just name it.” 

With a small shake of the head, she smiled and said, “I don’t need a lot of frills. Just you.” 

Giving her a long, luxurious kiss, he said, “We do need food though. So, if you can keep your hands off me long enough to get dressed, I’ll take you to breakfast before we head in today.” 

Reaching Venice may have been the end of the mission, but it was also Ayleen’s chance to start over. Finally free of Popov, she could get back to rebuilding her life. Without many marketable skills, she had no idea what step to take next. The mere thought of dancing, unfortunately, was already bringing up bad memories. Most likely, she would have to find work as a typist or secretary. Neither prospects excited her, but the main goal was to earn for herself. Steve had told her not to worry about it. He would see she was taken care of. And while she trusted him implicitly, she vowed never again to put herself in a position to be completely reliant on anyone else. 

SHIELD had sent a jet of their own to retrieve the couple. However, the reception she received wasn’t quite as friendly or compassionate as anticipated. Before the wheels were up, agents began questioning her with an accusatory tone. 

Steve grew increasingly irritated with his colleagues. Ayleen was exhausted. He protested, complaining multiple times that she was a victim. There was no need for an official interrogation. But she insisted on doing her part to provide any information that might be valuable. Even with one of their own vouched for her, she hoped to gain their trust.  

Once they landed, he insisted they were going to get much needed rest and return to HQ only when they were ready. When they eventually made their way back the organization, Ayleen was shuffled off one direction while Steve went to debrief and file his mission report. 

A couple hours later, he was surprised when one of the secretaries came in announcing that Director Carter would like to speak with him. It had been hardly less than two weeks since Steve sat across a desk from Peggy, but he assumed she would have returned to London long before. 

“I was sorry to hear about Yildiz. I understand he was a good man.” 

“He was. We became friends. I’ll miss him. And it was so unnecessary. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

After what she considered an appropriate moment of silence, she ventured, “On a lighter note, you and the girl?” 

“Ayleen.” 

“Yes. It’s serious?” 

“I think so. Admittedly, it hasn’t been long. We’re taking it seriously anyway.” 

Should she remind him to take things slow, or the difficulties of balancing his lifestyle with his work? Should she share some of the challenges she and her own husband continued to face after marriage? Ultimately, she decided it was no longer her place. 

Settling for, “I met with her. She seems tougher than I initially gave her credit for,” the MI6 Director hoped her face was conveying a genuine pleasure at seeing him happy again. 

“She's been through a lot in the past few years. There’s fight in her,” he said with the implication that it was the same kind that attracted him to Peggy. 

“What next, Captain?” 

“I’m finally taking a break.” 

“You’ll hate it.” 

Disagreeing with a shake of his head, he explained, “There’s something I need to do.”  

Other missions certainly had been more dangerous, but not since the war had one involved so much emotional upheaval. This time, again, he had fallen in love. This time, again, he lost Bucky. Maybe fate was offering him a chance to do things right this time around. 

Peggy locked eyes on him and said, “You’re a hundred miles away, Rogers.” 

Snapping back to the present he answered, “Sorry. Lost in my own thoughts. Did you know?” 

“Did I know what?” 

“Did you, or either agency, know about Bucky?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

She was an expert at deception, but he knew all her tells. There was no doubt she was sincere. “He’s alive. He survived the fall into the Danube and must have been recaptured by HYDRA. He’s The Winter Soldier.” 

“Steve, are you sure? They could easily have altered someone’s appearance to look like him.” 

“I’m telling you it was him, Peggy. He’s been brainwashed or something. He didn’t seem to recognize me or know what I was talking about, but there was something behind his eyes. The real Bucky is still in there.” 

“If this is true, then you know how dangerous he is.” 

“That’s why it has to be me that finds him.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I had the idea to simply use the "From Russia With Love" film as the framework for a Cap fic, I thought it would be SO easy. Well, let me tell you that, to date, this was by far the most difficult work I've ever written. That being said, while I know it's far from perfect by any means of the imagination, the effort makes me that much more proud of it.
> 
> If you were in the least entertained by this, please, please, please leave me a comment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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